by Terri Reid
“Mary, no one can hear me but you,” he said. “And those voices are just ghosts trying to get your attention.”
She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “What?”
“There are ghosts all around us,” he said. “Spirits who are stuck here because of something they’ve done or something someone’s done to them. They want to cross over. When word got out that you were recruited to help, well, there’s been a little excitement in the Spirit World.”
“Word got out? How in the world, I mean the Spirit World, does word get out?”
“The spirits are drawn to you. They know you can help,” he said. “And in a place like Chicago, you’re going to get lots of attention. It can be a little overwhelming.”
Shaking her head, she met his eyes. “How can I do all of this?” she asked. “I mean, I’ve been on investigations before and it takes a lot of work. How do I balance my real job and doing this?”
“God has a way of working things out,” Gabe said. “Just have a little faith and go with the flow.”
“Go with the …” Mary began, but was cut off by Gabe.
“Well, here they are now,” he said looking out across the park.
Mary followed his gaze and, at first, didn’t see anything but snow, trees and empty park benches. She took a deep breath and concentrated. Finally, the air began to shimmer and she saw two men, about the same age as Gabe, approaching. One man was a tall African-American with a scarred leather bomber jacket over his thin frame and loose khaki pants. His face was clean shaven and his hair was gray. The other man was shorter and dressed in jeans and a sheepskin-lined canvas jacket. His hair was nearly black and cut in a short well-trimmed style. His skin was slightly dusky and Mary assumed he was American-Indian.
“It’s about time you two decided to show up,” Gabe teased. “Mary, these are my partners, Otis Freeman and Joseph Redfeather. Gentlemen, this is Mary O’Reilly, our newest recruit.”
Otis nodded and smiled at her. “We heard about you,” he said. “And we are honored to have you in our company.”
“Your company?” she asked, sending a quick apologetic glance to Gabe.
“There aren’t many people who offer to lay down their life to save another,” Joseph said. “You’re part of a small club.”
Shrugging, she met his eyes. “I just did what I had to do. My brother would have died.”
“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends,” Otis whispered.
“So, all of you, you’re part of this club?” she asked.
Gabe nodded. “And one day we’ll tell you our stories,” he said. “But for now, we need to get you ready for your first assignment.”
“There are things you need to know,” Joseph added. “Important things.”
“Okay, I’m listening.”
“First thing, we are all brothers and sisters,” Otis said. “It’s not our job to judge because we can never have the whole picture.”
“Only God gets to judge,” Gabe added.
“I’m fine with that,” Mary agreed.
“Once you acknowledge a ghost, they are connected to you,” Joseph said. “They can follow you.”
Mary rubbed her arms up and down as a quick shiver ran up her spine. “Okay, that’s just a little creepy,” she said. “Aren’t there any rules?”
“You can set your own rules by announcing what you want out loud,” Gabe said. “A good rule is no ghosts in the bathroom.”
Nodding, Mary said, “Oh, yes, I think that’s a very good rule.”
“Make sure you do it when you get home,” Joseph said, “or you might run into a little company in the shower.”
“Once you figure out what is holding a spirit back and you help them resolve the issue, they might need a little help moving on,” Otis explained. “They’re so used to being here, they might not know to look for the light. Tell them to look around and when they see a light, they should walk towards it.”
“Is the light always a good thing for them?” Mary asked. “Will it be peaceful?”
“Not always peaceful,” Joseph said. “But they will understand that it will be a fair result of the life they’ve lived.”
“Can anyone else see the ghosts, besides me?”
Gabe shook his head. “Usually not,” he replied. “But occasionally, when there is a special connection between you and another person, they are able to see ghosts through you.”
“Will people think I’m nuts?” she asked.
All three guides laughed. “Yes, they will,” Gabe said. “But it’s far better for others to think you are crazy, than for you to think it.”
Chapter Five
“I feel like Ebenezer Scrooge,” Mary mumbled as she got ready for bed. “But in a good way.”
The guides had told her that her first assignment would show up in her bedroom later that night and she should be ready for him. She dressed for bed in sweats and a big t-shirt, wanting to be prepared in case she had to leave the house in a hurry.
She climbed into bed, pulled the covers up to her chin and waited.
The house was quiet except for the sounds of the furnace blower whirring and the hall clock ticking rhythmically in the background. She could hear cars drive down the street in front of the house and, if she really concentrated, she could hear the sounds of sirens in the distance.
She looked up to the ceiling and thought about her day. The three wise guides had been a wonderful distraction. They had given her pointers, teased her a little and opened up about their own stories. Gabe had been a high school teacher who had stepped between a confused student with a gun and an assembly hall of other students. Otis had been a firefighter for the Chicago Fire Department who died saving others in a high rise fire. Joseph had been a cab driver who dived into a flooded river to save a mother and her children who were trapped in a minivan that had been pulled into the raging waters. He was able to get them all to safety when a large tree limb swept by and pulled him under.
Ordinary people who did extraordinary things. She was honored to be considered one of their group; although she really didn’t think she deserved it. She nearly died saving her brother and, besides, she was a cop. What else could she have done?
She paused in her thoughts when she noticed the room was getting colder. Blowing softly into the air in front of her, she was amazed that she could actually see her breath. “Hello,” she whispered.
“I heard you can help me,” a voice came from a darkened corner of her room. It was a man’s voice with a slightly Hispanic accent. “Can you help me?”
Mary took a deep breath and concentrated, just like she had in the park. The air seemed to shimmer, but whoever the ghost was, he was still in the shadows.
“Come closer,” Mary said, unwilling to leave the safety of her bed. “I can’t see you.”
“I need your help,” the voice took on a desperate tone. “Tell me you will help.”
He stepped forward into the illumination from her small bedside lamp. Mary gasped, clapped her hand over her mouth and shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “No, I can’t help you.”
Jose Martinez took a step closer to her bed. His body was riddled with the gunshots holes he received from the other police officers on the scene. His hair was still mottled with blood and his eyes still held the desperate look of a junkie high on crack. “Lady, listen, you gotta help me,” he pleaded.
“No. No, don’t you get it. You shot me. You were going to kill my brother,” she quietly seethed. “You think you can do that to me, to my family and I’m going to help you? Sorry, but I will not help you.”
“But you’re the only one…”
Mary dropped down in her bed, pulled up her blankets and covered her head. “Go away,” she ordered. “Just go away.”
She held her breath and waited, her heart hammering in her chest, listening to the soft sobbing on the ghost beside her. But she was not going to move. She was not going to change her mind. She could no
t help this man.
There had to have been some mistake. Surely God didn’t want her to help the very man who had shot her. Surely he would realize it was too much to ask. Besides, this guy was a junkie and a murderer; he deserved whatever he ended up with.
The room became quiet and Mary realized that she could no longer see her breath. She sat up in her bed and look around, concentrating to make sure there was no one lurking in the shadows. Finally satisfied, she placed her head back on her pillow and went to sleep.
Chapter Six
Mary woke up suddenly and sat up quickly in bed. Her instincts told her she was not alone. She reached for the nightstand next to her bed in order to pull open the drawer and get the gun she stored there.
“Hey, calm down there Mary. You don’t need to shoot me, I’m already dead.”
She turned and saw Gabe floating at the foot of her bed. “You scared me,” she admitted, releasing a sigh of relief.
“Hey, sorry,” he replied. “I just wanted to see how your night went.”
She shrugged. “There must have been some mistake,” she said. “There was no way I could help the guy that showed up. It was Jose Martinez, the piece of garbage who shot me and tried to kill my brother.”
“So, you got Martinez as your first case,” Gabe replied. “And it didn’t go so well.”
“I’d say it didn’t go at all,” she said. “I told him I couldn’t help him. It was pretty cut and dry.”
Gabe nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. “You know, as a teacher, I used to tell my students that often things aren’t as obvious as they seem.”
“Well, as a cop I can tell you this is an open and shut case,” Mary insisted. “I saw Martinez point the gun at Sean. I saw the intent in his eyes; he was going to kill my brother. We have more than a dozen witnesses, all trained observers, who would testify that Martinez shot me and would have killed others if they hadn’t shot him first. I don’t need a judge to call this one, this guy was guilty and he got what he deserved.”
Gabe glided along the side of the bed, until he was standing along the side, next to Mary. “Well, it looks like you’ve got this one all figured out,” he said. “But I can’t help but think you might need a little more background to clarify the situation. You know, extenuating circumstances.”
“Extenuating circumstances don’t change the fact that he stood by himself in the street, pointed a gun at my brother and pulled the trigger,” Mary argued. “I’m sorry, Gabe, but I need to call it as I see it.”
“Well, I can understand that, Mary,” he replied. “And I think, from a police perspective, you’ve been very fair and very honest. But, I’d like you to see it from your new employer’s perspective.”
“My new?”
Gabe held out his hand. “Come on, Mary, put your hand in mine. I’ve got something to show you.”
Throwing her blankets to one side, she slid out of bed and put her hand in his. “Fine,” she agreed. “But you are not going to change my mind.”
Once he clasped her hand, her bedroom melted away to a soft blur. “This is weird,” she whispered.
“Yeah, but weird in a cool way, right?” Gabe replied, humor lacing his voice.
“Exactly,” Mary agreed.
In a few moments they were walking down a narrow street in a rundown neighborhood in Chicago. Graffiti covered every surface, abandoned cars sat alongside curbs, store windows were boarded over and concrete ran from the foundations of the brownstone apartment buildings to the streets, with only a ribbon of black asphalt separating the depressing gray.
Suddenly a car screeched around a corner and Mary could hear gunshots ricocheting off the apartment buildings brick facades. She instinctively reached for her gun, but remembered she was only in pajamas. “Gabe, we’ve got to find cover,” she yelled, pulling at her guide’s arm.
“It’s okay, Mary,” he said calmly. “We’re only shadows from the future. We’re not really here. Nothing can happen to us.”
The car drew closer and Mary could see the passengers wore the distinctive colors of one of Chicago’s well-known Hispanic street gangs. The older model Buick was filled with at least eight gang members and, except for the driver; all of the other occupants were leaning out the car windows firing their weapons indiscriminately at the apartment buildings.
“I understand this is the territory of a rival gang,” Gabe explained. “So they came here to teach them a lesson.”
The gunshots continued, along with the sounds of screams of terror as windows exploded and gunshots echoed in hallways. “Someone could get killed,” Mary shouted. “We have to stop them.”
She started to run towards the car, but Gabe held her back. “Mary, this has already happened. We can’t stop it,” he said. “And, you’re right, someone did get killed.”
The scene around them blurred and a moment later Mary found herself in a dingy, narrow apartment building hall. “Gabe…” she began.
He put a finger to his lips and shook his head. “Listen,” he whispered.
She stopped and did as he requested. The soft sounds of sobbing came from the other side of a door they were standing next to. “Come,” Gabe said, holding his hand out once more.
With her hand in his, they slipped through the closed door and into the tiny apartment. A young woman lay on the floor, blooding pooling around her body.
Mary began to move forward, but once again Gabe held her back. “It’s too late,” he whispered.
Then Mary turned her attention to the other occupants of the room. The soft sobbing she had heard came from a little girl, no older than three who was embraced in her older brother’s arms. The boy could not have been older than eight.
“Madre,” the girl cried. "Por favor madre, no estés muerta."
“Please mother, don’t be dead,” Gabe translated for Mary.
“Oh, the poor baby,” Mary whispered. “Is she…did the mother…”
Gabe nodded. “Yes, she died immediately.”
“Don’t worry, Maria,” the older brother said fiercely. “I will watch over you. I will protect you now.”
Maria turned her tear-stained face up to look at her brother, her breath catching in quiet sobs. “Tengo miedo.”
“You don’t have to be afraid, Maria,” he said, hugging her closer. “I promise you, I will always be here for you.”
“Te quiero, Jose,” she said quietly, laying her head against his chest.
“I love you too, Maria,” he said, placing his head on top of hers. “I love you too.”
Mary’s attention snapped from the children to Gabe. “Jose?” she asked. “Is this…”
He nodded. “Yes, this is Jose Martinez when he was eight years old.”
Mary shook her head and glared at Gabe. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Many children have hard lives and don’t grow up to kill cops. He had choices. He just chose the wrong things.”
Gabe took Mary’s hand. “You’re right. I can’t argue with that. Come on, it’s time for me to bring you home.”
Chapter Seven
A moment later, Mary found herself back in her bedroom standing next to her bed without Gabe. She tried to concentrate, in case she just wasn’t seeing him. “Gabe?” she called out. “Gabe are you here?”
Her bedroom door creaked open and Mary jumped and turned.
“Mary, are you all right?” her mother asked, looking concerned.
“Oh, Mom, you startled me,” she said.
“Well, I thought I heard you call out,” Margaret explained. “I was on my way to the bathroom. Are you hearing voices again?”
“No, Mom, nothing like that,” she said. “I was trying to work something out and I guess I was talking to myself. Sorry.”
Smiling with relief, her mother gave her a quick hug. “Oh, no, don’t worry about a thing,” she said. “Your father talks to himself all the time when he’s working on a case. He says it helps him remember the details. Now, go to bed. You need your rest.”
Mary obediently climbed into her bed, knowing it would be much easier to just do what she was told than to explain things to her mother. “Thanks Mom,” she said.
“Well, that’s what moms are for,” she replied, as she stepped out of the room and started to close the door. “To watch over their children, no matter how old they are.”
The picture of Jose’s mother lying dead on the floor immediately came to mind and Mary inhaled sharply to hold back her emotions. “Yes, they are,” she said softly to the closed door.
“Well, that was close.”
Mary turned to see Otis standing next to her bed. “What was close?”
“Your mother nearly caught me in your room,” he said. “We would have had quite a bit of explaining to do. Not only to your mother, but to my wife.”
Mary smiled. “Are you still married? Even though you’re dead?”
“Child, death is not strong enough to break the bonds of true love,” he said. “My Noreen is still alive, but someday we’re going to be together again.”
“That’s good to know,” she replied. “Love does conquer all.”
“Oh, honey, I didn’t say that,” he said, shaking his head. “Love tries, but prejudice, hate, anger and fear are pretty strong too. It takes a lot to smother love, but it can be done.”
Shaking her head, Mary slipped from her bed and stood before Otis. “That sounds like a segue to another training experience,” Mary said.
Otis’ eyes twinkled. “Your mama didn’t raise no ignorant children, did she?”
Mary grinned. “Well, sometimes I wonder,” she admitted. “What do I need to learn this time, Otis?”
“Honey, I’m just the driver,” he said. “You get to take from the situation what you need.”
He held out his hand and Mary clasped it. Once again there was the blurring of everything in her bedroom before she was transported to another time and place. When they stopped, they were inside a school. Mary looked around and saw they were right outside the principal’s office.
“I hated the principal’s office,” she admitted.
